Burden of Love
by SylvieT
Summary: My take on what could have happened to stop Sara leaving after Burden of Proof. It is clean, so don't be disappointed! GSR.


A/N: I've always been puzzled by the 'Since when are you interested in beauty, Since I met you' exchange in 'Primum Non Nocere' coming so soon after 'Burden of Proof', where an angry Sara looked on her way out without a backward glance. Something happened between those two episodes and I don't think it's just _the living plant_ he sent her!

I know it's been done to death but this just demanded to be written and keeping it clean, here's what I think could have happened.

* * *

**Burden of Love.**

"Shit, Sara! Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do I keep ending up sitting in this damn car, in your damn parking lot staring at your fucking window, too damn stupid to move, to much of a coward to get out of the car? Why can't I ever find the courage to run up the stairs to your apartment, ring your door bell and say what I want to say?"

Grissom was sitting in his lad-issued Denali, slumped over the steering wheel after shift one morning, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He knew that what he was doing to himself wasn't healthy but he couldn't help it.

It was beyond his control.

Just the thought of catching a glimpse of her as she walked past her window would be enough; would take him through another day.

_Oh, Sara! There's so much I want to say to you. So much I feel for you but I can't. I just can't give you what you want, however much I want to._

He wasn't interested in a quick screw in his office or in the car or even in his townhouse.

He wanted more than that.

He wanted the whole package, the whole deal – a relationship, intimacy, openness. He wanted it all.

He wanted to be able to walk down the street holding her hand. He wanted to be able to have dinner with her without worrying that they would be seen; or shout over the rooftops that he loved her. He wanted to not be fifteen years her senior.

But he also wanted his job, his career and his comfortable life. He wanted it all without giving up anything he already had.

And sadly, that wasn't possible. Not without sacrifices and the coward that he was, he wasn't willing to make those sacrifices. Not even for the woman he loved.

_If I can't have it all, then I might as well not have her at all. If you love someone, you set them free, right?_

Yet, today was different. Today wasn't _any_ morning. Today was a couple of days after the Mike Kimble case. Today was the last time he would make the drive to her apartment building – unless it was work-related, of course.

Sara had rung in sick. She was never sick. She'd left a message. A fucking massage! But that was his damn stupid fault too.

He knew it was just an excuse – a pitiful excuse; that she was probably just taking the night off, calming down and most probably trying to avoid any more confrontation with him; trying to avoid _him_.

Or worse and he couldn't bear to think about that; that she was busy searching for a new CSI position out of state somewhere or God forbids with the FBI.

_It's a request for a leave of absence -- six months ... a year, maybe. I was thinking of checking out the federal government system. I need a different work environment…one with communication and respect._

He respected her. Oh, God how he respected her. He respected her so much, it hurt him deep inside.

He could feel the blood boil in his veins as he suddenly thought back to his conversation with Catherine the previous morning when they'd shared breakfast. What was it she'd said?

_A paramedic_ ... _That's right,_ he agonised. _Hank somebody or other_.

Grissom had done a poor job of feigning casual interest in the conversation but Catherine had seen right through him and had smiled compassionately as she told him a few truths.

So that's where she most probably was, he figured eventually. Not looking for a new job but waking up in someone else's arms.

_She's being consoled by another man, _he realised miserably. And the mere thought was ripping him apart.

He punched the steering wheel with his balled fist in anger. Anger? He snickered.

Or was the tightening in his chest brought upon by jealousy? Grissom shook his head at the thought, narrowing his gaze contemplatively. He wasn't a jealous man, was he?

_Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves._

And that pain he felt. Oh, God how he felt the pain.

He pursed his lips into a defeatist, resigned smile and shook his head sadly. He looked up to her window again; the drapes were pulled and the apartment was in darkness. She could be sleeping of course, but the chances were she wouldn't be on her own.

He hurriedly reached over to the middle console and grabbed his cell. He gave himself a little pep talk as he turned the device in his hands nervously and speed-dialled her number before quickly cancelling the call and throwing the offending article onto the passenger seat.

He leaned forward on the seat and banged his head a couple of times on the steering wheel as though the gesture could drum some sense into him…or maybe help him summon a little courage.

_She gets very emotional._ A voice at the back of his mind reminded him. _You have to deal with it. You are the supervisor. People are making a family around you whether you like it or not._

Grissom looked up and heaved a great sigh and glanced over to his cell. Before he could lose his nerve, he reached for it and redialled her number and this time he waited till he heard it ring. His first instinct was to hang up again but he couldn't. It was too late. She'd know.

_Pick up, Sara. Please, pick up. _

And then he heard her voice and his heartbeat quickened, his mouth became dry and his breath caught only to be sorely disappointed when the voice came from the answering machine and he listened to the recorded message with bated breath.

Of course she was out, probably gallivanting with that boyfriend of hers. He looked at the phone with a pained expression, considered briefly ending the call and then when he heard the tell-tale beep he knew it was too late.

Words failed him and he was a stuttering mess. "Hum…Sara…it's me…hum…Grissom." _Sentiment on the card? Hum, just have it say 'From Grissom'._ "Sara, the reason I'm calling…" he continued nervously as he unconsciously smoothed the deep-etched lines around his eyes, "when I said the lab needs you…hum…I meant…I don't want you to leave the lab…or go work with the FBI." Words caught in his throat and he cleared it uneasily. "Anyway, it's probably too late already but…_I _need you to stay. I'm sorry."

Grissom disconnected the call and stared at the phone for a long time, willing it to ring, willing for her to call him back; to say that she had calmed down and of course, she was staying.

But it didn't.

And at that moment Grissom knew that he was too late. He knew then that whatever chemistry, affinity, and connection he had felt with Sara and had constantly pushed away was irremediably gone. He had been an insensitive pig and he had hurt her in the cruelest way.

There was no coming back from that.

He needed to be the bigger man. He was the supervisor. He needed to step away, repressing his feelings.

He could do that. He _would_ do that.

And it was with deep regret that he turned the key in the ignition. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, swallowing his pain and heartache, convinced he was doing the right thing. It was for the best. He was protecting her.

He was protecting himself.

Without a backward glance, he backed the Denali out of the parking space and as he was about to leave the lot he noticed a VW pull in, parking in the exact spot he had just vacated.

* * *

"Asshole!" she muttered for the thousandth time.

Sara was curled up on the sofa in her sweats under a comforter. She had been staring at her laptop for the last ten minutes, reading the words on the screen but really not taking any of it in at all.

She was spoiled for choice, though. Should she wish to change lab, job or even career, the world was her oyster. She just had to make a call.

She sighed. She had grown to like Vegas but he had left her no choice. She had to leave.

_We have the best lab in the country. Everybody respects you. The lab needs you. Blah, blah, blah._

He had backed her into a corner and she could see no other way out than leave Vegas. She couldn't stay. She couldn't live there knowing everyday that he was so close, but that she couldn't have him or love him the way she wanted to. But more importantly, she couldn't stay knowing that he thought so little of her and that her love wasn't reciprocated.

In her mind, it was all so clear. She knew what she had to do but it didn't make the pain go away or the longing, the craving for something, for someone that'd never be hers.

Sara looked down to her laptop and scrolled down the screen to the bottom of the page and closing her eyes, pressed 'send'.

There she'd done it. She'd taken the first step toward happiness, the first step toward the rest of her life.

Yet she didn't feel elated. She didn't feel anything. She just felt numb.

The sudden shrill ringing of her house phone echoing in the room snapped her out of her thoughts and trance-like, she turned her head toward the machine, her heart in her mouth, pausing only to wipe the silent tears she hadn't known were running down her face.

Dared she hope? Could it be him?

"Grow up, Sidle! Don't get your hopes up, he isn't worth it. It isn't him. And if it is him, it'll be work-related."

And yet, when her outgoing message clicked in, she couldn't help the drumming in her chest as she sat up fully on the sofa, ready to spring up, lest it _was_ him.

"_Hum…Sara…it's me…hum…Grissom."_

She jumped to her feet at the first "Hum", recognising the soft timber of his voice; the hesitation, tentativeness even in his choice of words, in the clumsy delivery and she knew he was nervous. She knew he was out of his comfort zone. He was speaking so very softly, so very tenderly that she knew the call wouldn't be work-related.

Tears built in her eyes and she allowed herself to hope.

She practically threw herself at the machine ready to pick up the receiver but she knew that if she did, the spell would be broken and so she stopped mid-movement.

Her tears started to fall, running slowly down her cheeks and she wiped at them furiously, angry despite herself for still caring, still loving, and still craving his affection, his love after what he did to her.

"_Sara, the reason I'm calling…when I said the lab needs you…hum…I…I don't want you to leave the lab…or go work with the FBI. Anyway, it's probably too late already but…I need you to stay. I'm sorry."_

And then he was gone and she instinctively knew what he was apologising for.

It wasn't for being insensitive, hurtful or even an asshole. This wasn't about what had happened in the lab with the ground beef.

No. She knew he was apologising for not being able to take the next step, despite yearning to; for not being able to reciprocate her love for him and love her back.

No. Love her back _unconditionally._

As the machine cut off, Sara immediately picked up the receiver to call him back, to plead with him that she was worth a chance, worth trying to love and that she would make all the sacrifices; that she didn't need very much.

Just a little of his love would suffice.

But before she could press any keys, the phone rang in her hand and her heartbeat quickened again thinking that it was him and that he'd had a change of heart. She swiftly connected the call, whispering a soft "Hey" as she waiting for him to talk.

"Hey…Sara," replied the soft voice.

Sara's smile died on her lips and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Hank…"

"I'm calling because I wanted to let you know that I…enjoyed our date, our meal last week. I'm just sorry it had to be cut short."

"Yeah…the finger…Sorry about that."

"Anyways, I just got off work and I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast with me."

"Huh…I'm not sure-"

"Listen, Sara. I'm just pulling into your parking lot right now."

Sara moved to the window with a sigh and discreetly pushed the drape aside, checking. And he heart sank when indeed she saw Hank's VW pulling into the lot. Her heart sank even lower when she noticed alongside it, Grissom's unmistakable silver Denali pulling out.

Sara gasped as she desperately tried to curb her rising tears.

"You were here? All this time, you were here," she murmured to the disappearing truck in pained disbelief.

"Sorry, Sara? I didn't catch that."

Hank's voice startled Sara. "Huh? Nothing," she replied shortly. She was rooted to the spot, her eyes still fixed on where Grissom had been a mere second ago.

"I'm coming up."

"No, Hank…I-"

But it was too late. Hank had already ended the call. And when she looked down toward the lot, he was already out of his car and she saw him look up at her and waved cheerfully.

And then, even before she'd had time to replace the phone on the cradle, he was at her doorstep, knocking on the door.

Like a zombie, Sara moved on autopilot and the phone still in hand, went to answer the door.

"Your neighbour let me into the building," he said with a smile, swaying on his feet, hesitating to go in uninvited. He paused, watching her intently. "Have…you been crying? Is everything okay?"

"Huh?" Sara quickly brought her hand up to touch her face self-consciously and pursed her lips into a fake smile. "No. Yes," she mumbled, shaking her head back to the present.

Hank shrugged mildly and gave a small nod in ready acceptance of her words.

"Was that your boss I just saw leaving?" Hank asked with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah," she replied, a happy grin suddenly dancing on her lips as she glanced casually at the living plant sitting on her kitchen counter, the card with the words 'From Grissom' neatly tucked away inside the foliage. "He came to apologise."

* * *

A/N: The jealous quote is by Joseph Addison, an English essayist.

Please, leave a review. Let me know if you liked it – or not, as the case may be. I take it all. ;)


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